


Perception and Experience

by Myrgh_Kerenza



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrgh_Kerenza/pseuds/Myrgh_Kerenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random conversation between Spike and Buffy about Angelus, set sometime in late Season 4 or early Season 5. (The title's not great, but I couldn't think what to name it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perception and Experience

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr blog, daffodilsandviscera.
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing. That is what I own. Nothing.

Spike fell into step beside her, and Buffy resigned herself to forced conversation. She was on her way to the cemetery– he was probably headed to his crypt. She groaned at the similarity of their paths.

“So…” said Spike, a little uncomfortably, and Buffy raised her eyebrows, contorting her face a little in distaste. Really, talking to anyone else might be preferable…

“Well, this is a start,” said Spike after a moment. “At least you’re not beating me up on sight.”

Buffy shrugged. “Should I be?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing his brown bag of groceries. Spike noticed, smirking a little.

“Smokes and booze, love,” he said, holding it open for her to see. Buffy glanced in briefly before giving a half-nod, satisfied for the moment with his lack of a threat, but repulsed by his idea of groceries.

“You’re disgusting,” she said, rather half-heartedly.

Spike tilted his head, his smirk still hiding in the corners of his mouth. “Not disgusting enough to beat up on sight, though,” he said, and the rest of his words hung in the air unsaid: it’s progress.

“So,” said Buffy, after another silent moment of walking, searching for something to say, “who’s beat you up the worst in your life? Er, unlife?”

Spike looked at her, a mixture of amusement and curiosity playing across his face, and she shrugged again. “Well, you being you, there’s no way it hasn’t happened at least a couple dozen other times…” she started, but he waved off the insult.

“Alright,” he said, and then sighed, thinking. “That would have to be Angelus. Angel, now, I guess.”

Buffy glanced over at him, doubtful shock wrinkling her forehead. “Really?” she asked, as if she expected a better story. “Angel?”

“Yeah,” he said, her disbelief making him defensive. “Listen, love, I know that’s a title you're eager to hold, but it’s Angel. It’ll always be Angel.”

Buffy shook her head a little. “That just doesn’t seem like him.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Maybe not now,” he said, almost under his breath. Buffy looked at him pointedly.

“Ever,” she said. “He’s not really the beatdown kind of guy.”

She could sense Spike’s agitation growing, and his grip on his grocery bag tightened ever so slightly.

“You really have no idea what he was like, do you?” he asked. Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah. Remember– he sorta came back? Stole your girlfriend? Creeped in my room every night for a month?” she said, her tone taking on a confrontational edge.

Spike laughed humorlessly, and Buffy got the sense it was more to himself than at her. “Oh, I knew he was holding back,” he said. “Bloody ponce.”

Buffy tensed a little, glaring at him. “‘Holding back’? He killed Ms. Calendar.”

Spike was unmoved. “Please,” he said challengingly. “You have no idea what he was really like back then. You got Angelus Lite. You have no idea…”

“You look like you survived him just fine,” muttered Buffy, feeling her patience wane. But Spike’s expression darkened in an instant.

“If I could scar,” he said, his tone repressed pain, “you’d know I didn’t.”

Buffy looked at him for a moment, sizing him up. She knew he and Angel had run in the same gang for a while. Angelus was crueler than any she’d known, but to turn that cruelty against his own family?

“So Angel was Mr. Bad-News-Vampire. We knew that,” she said eventually, trying to ignore her own thoughts.

Spike just shook his head. “I don’t think you did.”

Buffy exhaled sharply. “Well, you’re wrong, Spike,” she said with finality. Spike watched her knowingly.

“You just don’t want to think about it,” he said. “All the nasty stuff your ex did. Well, unfortunately for you, I’m a walking bloody photo album.”

Buffy didn’t look at him. “Good for you,” she said dismissively.

“I could tell you about the time he broke all my ribs,” he said, not letting it go. “Or the time he hit me until half my face swelled up like a sodding grape cluster.” His voice grew more serious. “Or the time he chained me to the ceiling and beat me until I wished he’d stake me.” He looked away, voice soft. “He broke every one of my fingers and toes that time. Hit me so hard I threw up. He loved that. Earned me another few blows to the head.” He gave another humorless laugh, meeting Buffy’s eyes. “But not enough to knock me out. Never enough for that. He wanted me conscious. So I was awake to hear him go downstairs after. To hear Drusilla cry. To hear him moan. And to know that there wasn’t a bleeding thing I could do about it.”

He stopped, looking away again. His point was made, but Buffy didn’t think he’d planned to share that much. He wanted to erase it, but he couldn’t. The words were said, truth ringing in each syllable. He cleared his throat.

“But, hey,” he said, darkly sardonic, “you knew him, too.”

Buffy kept walking, silent. She never hated him more than times like this. When she couldn’t argue back. When he was right.


End file.
